


i remember trusting you with open arms but-

by harukatenoh



Category: Hyouka & Kotenbu Series
Genre: F/M, M/M, Unrequited Love, i wish there wasn't het in this but its necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 16:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6246583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harukatenoh/pseuds/harukatenoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>- i know that you're in love with her, i can tell by the way you never touch her, or look at her</p><p>Houtarou finally looks at Eru, finally touches her, and Satoshi crumbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i remember trusting you with open arms but-

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glueskin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glueskin/gifts).



> i'm so sorry. 
> 
> work title (and part of the summary) from new love by voxtrot. please listen to this song.

_Smile,_ Satoshi thinks, and his face lights up as he watches Houtarou approach. Eru follows in tow, hand in Houtarou’s like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is.

Not wanting to give himself away, he lets his expression pull into something more smug at the sight. Houtarou looks away, the slightest burn of pink in his cheeks, and Satoshi responds with the knowing smirk he loves to use around his—best friend.

He doesn’t love it much today. He discovers he doesn’t love anything much today, except maybe Houtarou.

That being, the source of all of his problems.

Eru beams at Satoshi as she draws nearer, smile as bright as the pink Satoshi’s world is usually dipped in. This time however, the shocking pink smile just serves to drain the vibrancy from his world, turning it grey.

He thinks about it, and decides it isn’t grey that his world is being dyed in. He wouldn’t have minded if it had been. Instead his surroundings are colourless, the normal hues bleached out by the sight of his two best friends.

Houtarou’s eyes are back on him now, and Satoshi shoots him a knowing look, winking at the entwined hands like the sight of them isn’t running through his chest and ripping his heart out. Houtarou smiles as his gaze follows Satoshi’s, falling to his hand in Eru’s as well. The smile is small and pleased, one that Satoshi rarely gets to see, and it almost brings a smile to Satoshi’s face as well.

Houtarou is caught up totally in the idea of _him and Eru_ , and Satoshi is immensely glad that his attention is diverted so he can’t notice Satoshi’s fidgeting hands and downcast looks. While Houtarou rarely participates in their game of _knowing_ each other, if he tries, he can match Satoshi’s knowing looks one for one.

Satoshi pushes this thought to the side, to the place any and all thoughts about Houtarou _knowing_ go, and focuses on watching Houtarou stare at his hands. His expression is a mix of tired acceptance and subdued awe and it brings a smile to Satoshi’s face despite himself, so achingly familiar and so achingly _Houtarou_. Satoshi is glad that, despite most of the Eru induced change being positive, some things about Houtarou will never shift.

He hears himself greet them, even if the walls he’s trying to build around his heart block the sound slightly. The distance between them increases as he forces himself away from the sight, as they draw closer to the table.

Eru is already talking about the newest mystery, her voice a million miles away from Satoshi and he pretends he doesn’t wish she was further. Houtarou is vaguely uninterested, as he always is at first. The boy sits down in a seat, pulling out the latest book he has to read for English, nodding absently along to Eru’s chatter. It’s a simple obstacle to navigate for Eru now, Satoshi already playing out the scene in his mind. Simple. Normal. Bearable.

Then Eru, ever the new experience, changes it completely. Satoshi is caught painfully off guard as she leans up, smile on her face, to whisper in Houtarou’s ear before lightly kissing him on the cheek.

Even with his gaze trained firmly on the book in front of him, the breath rushes out of Satoshi’s lungs as he sees them in his periphery, catching at his throat and clawing up out of his mouth.

He’s standing up at the table before he can think about it, stammering out “I left something in the sewing clubroom, I’ll be right back!” His hands slam down onto the table, too loud and too wrong.

The words sound fake and rushed, even to him but he’s leaving still, almost quick enough to miss the _look_ Houtarou shoots him as he goes.

Then, he’s out of the room, and stumbling down the hallway as his heart follows his breath and tries to climb up out of his throat as well. It’s Friday, after school, and he knows where he has to go, pushing open the library doors with all the force he has left.

Mayaka looks up from her desk, the surprise on her face melting into understanding within seconds when she takes in Satoshi’s expression, because you don’t love somebody since middle school and not learn how to tell their emotions in a heartbeat.

It’s how Satoshi knows, when he watches Houtarou smile at Eru, that it’s a lost cause. It’s how Mayaka knows from one look at Satoshi’s face, that it’s finally and truly, a lost cause.

Her face falls for a split second and this information hits Satoshi, that Mayaka _knows_.

He steps backwards, almost out of the library, breathing hard. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have come here I’m sorry-”

The words stumble out, tripping over the place where his breath used to be and where is heart is filling up his throat, and Mayaka just walks over to him, concern on her face, and pulls him down to the table.

“You’re my _friend_ ,” she says briskly, sitting him down on the seat, “so stop apologizing.”

Satoshi thinks he’s crying now, the front of his shirt bundled up to try and catch the tears before they fall, pressed over his eyes. He’s still mumbling apologies, and he knows that Mayaka knows that he’s not apologizing for the tears staining her shirtsleeve. His shoulders shake, crumpling inwards as he hiccups and sobs and tries to regain his lost breath.

“It’s not your fault,” she murmurs gently, pulling a packet of tissues out of her pocket and handing them to Satoshi. “It’s not your fault, it’s not Houtarou’s fault, and it’s not Eru’s fault.”

He takes the tissues, abandoning the fabric clutched in his hands and wipes his eyes, trying to stop the shaking. He’s crying with all the force of everything he’s bottled inside, and there’s some part of his mind that tells him this way it’ll be easier, easier after he empties himself out and ends up hollow.

It’s the same part of his mind that tells him to _smile_ when he sees Houtarou and Eru together, the same part that tells him to give them his support, and the same part that tells him he’s a liar.

He hates it, mostly because it’s right.

It takes a while, but he calms down, stops trembling and finally breathes. He focuses on the bookshelf opposite him, staring down the title in an effort to stop Houtarou’s _happiness_ from swimming in his vision and overwhelming it.

It doesn’t work, and he slumps onto the table in defeat, new tears leaking out. They’re quieter this time, and he barely realizes they’re there at all.

Mayaka watches him, expression a little sad, a little wistful, and says “It’s just how it is.”

He cries a little more, then takes in a deep, shuddering breath and exhales.

“This sucks.” He finally manages, the words ill fitting on his tongue. Mayaka smiles barely, nodding in agreement.

The two of them sit in silence for a while, the mutual understanding that rests on them stifling any words they had to say.

“We should go to the club. They’ll be waiting.” Mayaka finally says into the empty air of the library, to which Satoshi responds with a nod. Looking down at his damp shirt, the evidence of the tears recently shed still there, he cracks a half hearted smile.

“Can we stop by the sewing room? I think I need a new shirt.”

* * *

Satoshi and Mayaka walk into the room, Satoshi newly changed into a grey shirt he found in the sewing room. Considering how fond he is of the colour grey, he doesn’t wear it as much as he should, and takes note of this while entering.

His eyes fall back on Houtarou and Eru, sitting side by side, and he remembers why he’s fond of the colour grey with a short exhale.

He breathes in again, and his hands unclench.

With a smile, he walks over to them and sits down.

* * *

That night, he takes the grey shirt and sews rose coloured patches all over it, until it’s barely recognizable.


End file.
